


Under The Influence

by aideomai



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:03:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aideomai/pseuds/aideomai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do not operate heavy machinery when using dark magic. Also recommended: avoid boybands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under The Influence

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very, very much to oddishly, who beta'd and cheered this on to completion and was in general the perfect audience. And thank you also to cyclogenesis, for the good thoughts along the way, and disarm_d, for the inspirational picture.
> 
>  **Warning** for slight dub-con in a "dark magicky" sort of way, and that you may not want to go into this with your OT5 guns blazing.
> 
> Spurred by this gif, and the brilliant Tumblr user who thought to caption it "Harry Styles summoning the demons".
> 
>  

"Shut up, Grimey."

Nick laughed. "I'm just thinking, me and Lucy here are wanting to—"

"Please shut up, Grimey."

"All right, all right, let's have the next question."

"True or false: Harry Styles is the modern day Lord Vol-deh-morty."

Nick whooped with laughter. "That's a good one, I like that one. I - I don't know, what do you think, Lucy?"

The caller laughed, too. "I've heard that Harry Styles is really nice though, isn't he? I want him to be nice!"

"He is nice," Nick agreed. "He's lovely, he's the sweetest lad in showbiz, _we_ think—"

"Yes, yes, yes," the showbot agreed.

"But you know what, he has that band of his on quite a tight hold, doesn't he? Maybe they're his lackeys, his, whatsits, the bad guys—"

"Death Eaters," Lucy supplied.

"That's it!" Nick nodded. "I'm going to say yes, that's true."

"I'm saying false," Lucy said. "He's too nice."

"The answer is: true."

"I told you, Lucy," Nick said. "It's the nice ones you've got to watch out for."

\---

"No, but really," Matt said. "Is there something up with Harry?"

"What, did you have some inspiration for the Potter stuff?"

"No, he just looks kind of odd in a couple of those photos from New York."

"I'm going to tell him you're keeping up with his paparazzi shots," Nick said, getting his phone out. "You're such a good little fanboy, Finchy, he'll be so happy—"

"You are a right dick, you know that, right?"

Nick beamed at him, lunging in to kiss Matt on the cheek, but Matt was too fast and too prepared for him these days, and he darted out of the way and left Nick to catch himself on the back of a chair.

"Coming, boys?" LMC said, sailing back into the room with her coat draped over her arm to pick up her phone.

"On our way," Nick said. "Finchy's just avoiding my sweet, sweet love."

"How cruel of him," LMC said. "Hurry up or we'll go to lunch without you."

The cafe around the corner knew them and their orders by heart now, and sometimes if the wind was right and there was just the right amount of luck in the air or something, they'd even have started preparing their meals in advance of Nick getting there. Sometimes even on the days when Nick felt particularly tired at the idea of even glancing over a menu, let alone _waiting_ for food.

As he settled into his usual seat, LMC said, "Really, though, when does Harry get back?"

"Still another three or four days," Nick said. "I don't know, check one of those twitters what keep you updated on their movements."

"You say that like you don't follow all of them," Finchy said, and ignored it when Nick flipped him off.

"It'll be nice to see him again," Fiona said. "You should bring him into the studio again one morning."

"I think it's impossible to wake him that early unless he has an interview," Nick said. "But we'll see." He yawned, stretching a little. "It _will_ be nice to see him again."

"Long as the showbot wasn't onto something with the Lord Voldemort thing," Ian said, waggling his eyebrows.

"That was a great question," LMC said, laughing. "I was proud."

"He does look weird," Matt said, shrugging. "All kind of – zoned out and focused."

"Those are antonyms," Nick informed him helpfully. "Which is a very big word that means—"

"Oh, shut up," about three people said at once.

\---

Harry mostly looked kind of exhausted in the wide-eyed, overwhelmed way, Nick thought, having a click around online himself. He texted Harry: _want me to come meet you at the airport when you get back?_

The response came through immediately, which was kind of cool. Nick had no idea what time it was in the US. _yes._

Nick grinned, sent back: _all right, demanding!!!_

 _yes_ , Harry sent.

\---

Nick didn't actually go into the airport, because that would be courting disaster in the form of paparazzi-mixed-with-sweatpants; just found a place to park and texted Harry and then spent a while catching up on emails and twitter. He'd arrived about the time that Harry's plane landed, but it still took forever for Harry to get out through customs and then paparazzi and fans, and Nick had been waiting for something ridiculous like an hour by the time Harry finally opened the back door to fling his bags in.

"Hullo, there," Nick said, leaning across for a hug, and Harry grabbed him tight. That wasn't so unusual; the way Harry reached up to grip Nick's neck was. His fingernails dug in and he held Nick in place, squeezing very gently. Nick made a little sound when he tried to shift backwards and wasn't allowed.

"Hey," Nick said, and Harry let him go. When Nick moved back to sit against his own side of the car, Harry grinned at him, slow and pleased.

"Hiya," Harry said, singsong and almost – but not quite – mocking. 

Nick raised his eyebrows. "You feeling all frisky this morning, Styles?" Harry raised his eyebrows right back, and Nick couldn't help the little grin, unable to hide how pleased he was to have Harry back. 

"I'm tired," Harry said. "Planes are awful."

"Want me to take you back to yours?"

"No," Harry said. "I want to go back to yours. Let's get McDonalds on the way."

Nick made a face. "McDonalds, really—"

"Yes."

"Little hungover this morning, dare I ask?"

Harry grinned at him, sharp and self-assured. "No," he said.

Nick took him to McDonalds.

\---

"Every now and then I think I'm going to be done being surprised about just how much you can eat," Nick said, as Harry started in on his second hamburger. "And then you steal my fries."

"You didn't want them," Harry said, careless.

"Maybe I did!"

"No, you just wanted to stare at me," Harry said. "I bet you already ate."

"You are cocky as hell and with no good reason," Nick said, delighted. "Someone's let popstardom in America go to his head."

Harry grinned again. It was almost new, that smile, though Nick couldn't quite work out how. There was something uniquely contented about it, and Nick thought that if only he was a better person, he would probably find it gratingly obnoxious. As it was he just smiled back, helpless, while Harry drank both of their Diet Cokes.

When they got into Nick's place, Harry yawned and kissed Nick's cheek and said, "Don't take too long coming to bed," before he kicked off his shoes – leaving them in the middle of Nick's hallway – and went straight for Nick's bedroom. Nick followed him, bewildered, just in time to see Harry stripping out of his clothes, including his underwear, and crawling straight into bed.

"Wow," Nick said.

Harry didn't stir.

Nick sighed and went back out to his apartment, fixing himself a cup of tea.

"No, of course you're welcome for the trip back from the airport, Harry," he said, very loudly indeed. "And the McDonalds, and the welcome home. No, Harry, help yourself to my bed, get all naked, _I_ don't mind, mi casa—"

There was no response from the bedroom, and Nick couldn't remember the Spanish word for _is_. He stood quietly for a moment, and then tipped his cup of tea out and went to the bedroom, getting undressed quickly before he climbed into bed with Harry.

 _He_ left his underwear on, at least. Despite all of Finchy's slander, Nick was a perfect gentleman.

\---

When he woke up, it was because Harry was on top of him, nudging his fingers lightly against Nick's ribs.

"Mrgh," Nick said muzzily. "What?"

"Wake up," Harry said. "Awake! Come on."

"What's going on?"

"I was awake and you weren't," Harry told him. "It was awful, I was so bored. Hey there. Hiya, hello."

"Hi," Nick said. He stared up at Harry, who was lying on top of him with his knees fitted against either side of Nick's hips. Harry had still not put any _clothes_ on, or at least Nick was as sure of that as he could be without groping Harry's arse. 

"Did you miss me?" Harry said, straightforward and without embarrassment. There was a slight smile curling around his mouth and tugging the corner up, and Nick swallowed hard, staring up at him. Harry's eyes were darker than Nick could ever remember seeing them. Nick opened his mouth and Harry said, "Tell the truth."

Nick closed his mouth again. Then after a moment he said, "Yeah. Course." It kind of surprised him, and so did the sound of his voice, rough with sleep and care. He reached up and stroked Harry's hair out of his face, and Harry let him, but then curled a hand around Nick's wrist, pinning it down to the bed. Harry's grip was stronger than Nick remembered, too.

"What about me?" Nick said after a moment, awkward. "You miss me?"

Harry's grin got wider. "I thought about you," he said, "a lot."

"Oh," Nick said. His heart was beating faster than he thought entirely necessary.

"And I thought about being back here a lot," Harry said. "About what I was going to do to you."

"Did you now," Nick said, trying to keep the upper hand in a conversation that was rapidly baffling him. He felt a little at sea, if it was possible to be at sea in a sexy way, like maybe there were hot mermaids around the place and Harry was in a sailor's outfit or something. "You planned on bossing me into getting you McDonalds and then stealing my bed, did you?"

"To start with," Harry said. He leaned in, his curls falling over his eyes. They were definitely, definitely darker than normal, his pupils blown, too. Nick wondered suddenly if Harry had _taken_ something, and then remembered that Harry had just been on an international flight from _America_. There was no way he'd be able to smuggle anything through security, and surely if he'd been stupid enough to take something before flying it would have worn off by now.

This, it seemed, was just Harry. Nick swallowed hard, and Harry's gaze dropped for a moment, followed the drag of Nick's Adam's apple against his throat, and then moved up slowly to land on Nick's mouth instead. Nick licked his lips instinctively. Harry smiled, very slow and pleased.

"The team misses you," Nick said quickly, because he had to say _something_. "If you think you can get out of bed in time, you could come into work with me tomorrow morning, hang out on the couch. Just like old times, you know."

Harry frowned. "Don't go into work tomorrow," he said.

"Oh, okay," Nick said, and then laughed. "Whatever you say."

"Good," Harry said.

Nick stared at him. "I'm joking, Styles. I'm the host of the Radio 1 Breakfast Show, I can't just take a day off because a demanding eighteen year old has shown up at my door—"

"You picked me up," Harry pointed out.

"Don't be pedantic," Nick said. "There's no way, anyhow."

"I bet I can convince you," Harry said. He leaned in closer over Nick. His hair was still falling in his eyes; now it was brushing Nick's forehead, too. "And if I can't, I'll _make_ you—"

Nick was still in that first tense, overwhelmed moment of trying to work out what was going on and whether Harry was really, finally about to kiss him, when Harry's phone started in on a cheery chorus of Justin Bieber being heartbroken. Harry paused, still crouched over Nick, and then sighed and rolled off him.

"Don't get it," Nick said, too pitiful for his own liking.

"That's Niall's ringtone," Harry said, and climbed out of bed and onto the floor, digging around in the mess of his clothes until he found the phone while Nick was still trying to process the fact that Niall's ringtone was _Baby_.

Harry put the phone on speaker, and then climbed back on the bed. He didn't bother to get under the covers, just sprawled back with his hand on his stomach. He was definitely still naked. 

Good to know.

"What's going on, Niall?" Harry said, sounding almost bored.

"Harry," Niall said quickly over the speaker. He sounded distressed. "Where are you? We've all been round at your place and we're knockin' and all but you're not answering, can you please let us in? We're _lonely_ —"

"Oh my god," Nick said. "I thought the codependency was made up by people on the internet."

"I'm busy," Harry said. He looked at Nick and winked.

"We won't get in your way or nothing!" Niall said, and there was a tinny, faint chorus in the background of agreement. "It's fine, we just want to – to see you and all, Harry, isn't that all right? We miss you."

"You _just got back_ from an American tour," Nick said.

"I'm with Nick, though," said Harry.

"Oh, good, can we come there, then?"

"No!" Nick said.

"All right, I s'pose," Harry said. "You can't get in the way, but."

"We won't," Niall said eagerly. "We'll be round in half an hour." And then, fainter: "S'all right, lads, we're going to Nick's, Harry's there—"

Harry hung up. 

"What on earth," Nick said, "is going on? They're not really coming around, are they?"

"You'd better make sure you've got stuff to eat," Harry said wisely. "They're going to be hungry."

Nick stared at him. "Make something yourself. Get a takeaway or something."

Harry scratched lazily at his stomach, arching his back, and Nick stared until he realised Harry was watching him, laughing a little.

"Oh, all right," he said waspishly, and fairly ran from the room.

\---

He didn't have much of anything that was edible, so in the end _he_ was the one who ordered takeaway – Chinese, and a lot of it, because he'd seen how much one-fifth of One Direction ate and wasn't interested in having to search out seconds for the rest of them.

Harry padded out eventually, and seemed in a better mood; anyway, he curled around Nick's back, nuzzling his face against Nick's shoulder, and when Nick broke and pleaded, "Will you _please_ go and put some clothes on," Harry made a face but then went and put underwear on. There was that, at least. It was still a lot more skin than Nick was usually able to operate around, but it was a definite improvement now that Nick was able to talk to Harry without being distracted by his dick.

The food arrived with One Direction, almost exactly; Nick was just closing the door after the delivery guy when there was a cry of delight and Niall was sticking his arm through, nearly letting Nick jam his fingers in the door. Nick moved back, hurried, and Niall bustled through without saying a word to him, making a beeline for Harry and then freezing just short of him.

"Hello," Harry said. "All right?"

"Yeah," Niall said eagerly, and the rest of One Direction poured through the door.

Liam came first, coming up behind Niall to wrap his arms around Niall's stomach and put his chin on Niall's shoulder, sighing at Harry like Aimee did at pre-Raphaelite paintings. Zayn barreled right on through and didn't stop like Liam and Niall had, went up to Harry and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his face against Harry's neck and breathing in deeply. Harry rolled his eyes, but patted Zayn's back, which made Zayn melt in against him. Niall looked ill with jealousy, and Liam fairly swooned against his back.

Louis came last. He looked sulky as hell, and was the first person to acknowledge Nick, though he did so with a glare. At first he just closed the door behind himself and leaned against that; then he sauntered in a little closer and stopped at a wall, but his view of Harry there seemed to be blocked by Liam and Niall, so he came in a little closer, perching on the edge of Nick's dining table and staring at Harry there.

His feet didn't reach the ground, Nick noticed somewhat smugly, and resisted the urge to take a picture of it. A funny comment wasn't worth the new round of hate that making fun of Louis Tomlinson again would engender on Twitter.

"All right, then," Nick said. "Anyone want to tell me what's going on?"

"Are you lot hungry?" Harry said instead.

"Oh," Niall said. He looked vague. "Guess so."

"When was the last time you all ate?"

"Uhm," Niall said.

Zayn mumbled something, but it was inaudible against Harry's neck. Louis looked briefly startled out of his black mood by confusion, and said, "Was there food on the plane?"

Harry leveled an accusing look at Liam. " _Liam_."

"Sorry," Liam said, flushed and repentant. "I didn't think properly, I was – you disappeared and we were all—"

"Well, it's all right now, Nick got food," Harry said, gesturing towards the table. Three of them moved in a hungry surge towards it – Zayn was still clinging to Harry – but Harry said sharply, "Say thanks."

"Thanks, Nick," came the chorus, and Nick stared.

"Seriously," Nick said. "Harry, seriously, _what the hell_."

Harry winked at him.

\---

It was possibly the strangest meal Nick had ever had in his life. The boys sat around the table, trying to shovel all of the food in their mouth without stopping for air, but also staring obsessively and unrelentingly at Harry. It made for some messy faces; Nick gave up gesturing, and just handed around napkins whenever it seemed right. Occasionally they even worked out what he meant them to do with it.

It was somewhat disconcerting, especially because that concentrated attention was very, very focused on where Nick was sitting. Just one unfortunate side effect amongst many, Nick thought, about the fact that Harry was sitting on his lap. It also meant that the only time any of the guys diverted their attention from Harry was in a hard glare at Nick, who was clearly getting more of Harry's attention than they felt he deserved.

Nick wouldn’t mind getting a little less of Harry's attention, honestly, just because he wasn't sure how much of this he could handle. He wasn't even hungry, couldn't concentrate. That was probably a good thing, though, because apparently the boys had decided the food was rightfully theirs along with Harry, and Nick dreaded to think what would happen if he made a grab for that as well.

Harry had one arm curled around Nick's neck, his hand dipping in under the loose collar of Nick's t-shirt and stroking at his collarbone. The line of his thumb was sexier than any finger had any right to be, and Nick thought dizzy things about how clearly Harry had been practicing guitar a little more lately, going by the calluses on the rest of his fingers.

One by one, the boys stopped eating, chopsticks falling unnoticed in favour of a bit more hopeful gazing at Harry. Nick had sort of hoped that maybe this was just some bizarre ritual when One Direction got hungry, but it seemed to be almost _worse_ now. 

Only Harry seemed absolutely unconcerned by everything, eating his meal and humming occasionally to himself. He didn't seem to have noticed any of them were there, and perhaps he would have continued not to notice, but Nick finally got too freaked out to stay quiet any longer, and nudged him instead.

That, unlike anything the boys did, got Harry's attention right away. He snapped his gaze to Nick and said, "What?"

"This is really weird," Nick said. Harry laughed and bent his forehead against Nick's for a moment in some weird moment of reassurance. The weirdest bit was that it actually _was_ reassuring.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I got a little carried away in New York."

" _I_ didn't mind," Niall said quickly. "Did you mind, Zayn?"

"Harry," Zayn whispered. "Harry, can I – can I – will you stroke my hair?"

"Did you mind, Louis?"

"Yes," Louis said. Harry shot him a quick, unreadable glance, and Louis flushed, ducked his head. "I – but I want it. I want it anyway, I don't care, please, Harry—"

"I didn't mind," Liam said. He and Niall exchanged approving looks.

Nick cleared his throat. "Carried away with what?"

"Oh," Harry said. "The magic and stuff."

\---

"I'm sorry," Nick said, for about the fifth time. " _What_?"

"That goes in the recycling, Louis," Harry said, and Louis changed direction, folding up some of the cartons and putting them in the recycling bin.

"I can do it," Liam said, practically vibrating in his chair.

"You did the dishes," Louis snapped. " _And_ you made tea."

"I do have a dishwasher," Nick pointed out. "Very nice tea, though. Harry, what – _magic_?"

"We found a book," Harry said. He was tracing his fingers lightly over Nick's stubble, thumb smoothing along Nick's cheekbone. It was very distracting. "We thought it was a bit of a joke and all, only then we accidentally turned Liam's hair into snakes. Lou was so mad."

"Did she – see the snakes?" Nick said. He felt a bit faint.

"No, we hacked them all off," Harry said. "But it made Liam's hair look dreadful. That's why he had to shave it."

Nick moaned. "This has been going on for months, has it? You little terror, if this is some sort of elaborate joke—"

"Not a joke," Harry said, and Nick believed him. It was terrible and ridiculous, but he believed him, believed Harry's dark eyes and the lazy grace in the way he'd sprawled across Nick's lap. 

It also helped that Harry had four captive boys staring enthralled at him, and that Harry's teaspoon was currently stirring his tea without anybody touching it.

"Anyway," Harry said. "We thought we'd try this one about, I don't know, making your power greater or something. Just for a laugh." He looked hugely pleased with himself. "It's not my fault I'm really, really good at magic."

"He's good at everything," Niall said, with no trace of irony whatsoever.

"He's not," Louis said. "Can't get this thing off us, can he?"

Harry shot a look at Louis, and Louis shivered, sitting down abruptly and folding his hands in his lap, ducking his head and then peering up at Harry through his eyelashes.

"You want it off, Louis?" 

Harry's voice, never the fastest, had slowed to a drawl that made Nick shift a little uncomfortably in his chair. That only resulted in him being reprimanded with a sharp tug of his hair. While Nick was busy gaping at him, Harry beckoned Louis over with a move that had to have been picked up out of porn.

"C'mere," Harry said. "And I'll take it off."

Louis rose up out of his seat as though spellbound, dragging his feet as he crossed the floor, staring tragically at Harry. Niall, Liam, and Zayn were staring, too; Niall looked like he was on the brink of tears or something equally ridiculous.

"Louis," Zayn said. "Louis, come on—"

"On your knees," Harry said, and Louis did as he was told. Nick made a tiny, involuntary noise that could only be considered enabling. He was so weak. 

Louis had his head bowed and his fists clenched, and he was trembling a little. Harry leaned down, one hand casually knotted in Nick's shirt for balance, and kissed Louis on the forehead.

"I'll take it off," he murmured. "Poor Louis."

Louis let out a shivering breath.

"If that's what you want."

"I—"

"Anything you want, Louis." Harry's eyes were wide and earnest, and Niall was sniffing tragically on the other side of the table. Nick wasn't really sure at what point he should step in. The situation required an adult, and he didn't know where on earth to find one. "You know that. I'll do _anything_."

"Louis," Zayn said again, but Harry gave him a warning look and he fell silent.

"I want," Louis said, and stopped, swallowed hard. "Harry, please, I just want – I—"

"You want me to take it off," Harry said.

Louis stayed perfectly still for a moment longer, and then reached out and grabbed at Harry's ankle, leaning forward to rest his head against Harry's legs. "No," he said, "no, don't, don't take it off. Please."

"Okay!" Harry said, cheery, and swiveled around again, reaching for the custard creams and offering one up to Nick.

On the floor, Louis made a pitiful noise. Harry diligently wiped a few crumbs away from the corner of Nick's mouth.

\---

It started to get dark, and the boys looked like they were settling in for the night.

"How long is this going to last?" Nick hissed. "Harry, this is ridiculous. Take the spell off."

"I don't actually know how," Harry said. He was leaning back against the kitchen counter, hips tilted forward. Nick was pretty sure Harry didn't _need_ to spread his legs like that, though he was sure Harry would come up with some rubbish about balance if challenged. "It's fun though, isn't it?"

"No," Nick said. "You've taken and bound the will of four young men. It's slavery or something."

"Sounds like you at a club," Harry said.

"Oh my god," Nick said, delighted. "You can make jokes again! Maybe it is wearing off."

Harry looked alarmed. "No, it's not! It works!"

"It better be wearing off," Nick said loftily. "This can't continue. It's going to your head."

"It's working." Harry scowled. "It's – Nick, come here."

"I am here. You just need to learn a little more self-control, young man, no magic for a week—"

" _Nick_ ," Harry said, voice low and rough, and beckoned, and something in Nick's chest _tugged_. His breath caught, and he stared at Harry, wide-eyed, heart suddenly pounding, as Harry beckoned again and reeled Nick in like he had a line sunk deep in Nick's chest.

Nick made a small noise, not sure what he felt or thought. His head was swimming, and the touch of – of _magic_ on him was somehow beyond belief, like Harry was pulsing it through him, like the rhythm of the bass at a show or the lights falling on him in a club. It thrilled him through to the core and made him feel suddenly lethargic at once, as though the only movements he need make were the ones Harry demanded of him, as though he could give himself up to Harry entirely for Harry's use, and never mind, and let Harry have Nick as he willed.

The tragic thing was that it wasn't entirely an unfamiliar experience.

"Come here," Harry said, and he sounded different now than he had with Louis, almost breathless, eyes wide and fixed on Nick. Nick stopped in front of Harry, limbs prickling with pins and needles, feeling like they didn't entirely belong to him, and Harry said, impatient, " _Here_ ," and made something tug at Nick's spine, in his chest, so that Nick was leaning in and Harry was leaning up, anxious, licking his lips.

Their foreheads were bent together, Nick curved over Harry and Harry following the line of his body. Harry breathed, "I told you, I thought about you a lot," and the light weight of his hand on the back of Nick's neck was enough to make Nick feel, very briefly, like he was falling into a tailspin.

Harry glanced down, and then up again. He looked absurdly beautiful. Nick stared, shook his head, and started laughing.

"Nick," Harry murmured, and his voice sounded like a promise of everything Nick had ever wanted. Nick laughed harder. Harry said, " _Nick_ ," and his voice still sounded like all of that, stupid promises and late nights and grins pressed close and the scrape of Nick's teeth on the undeniably lovely arch of Harry's back, only a little peevish now, too.

"You are such a _brat_ ," Nick said.

Harry huffed out a breath, and Nick beamed at him, stroking Harry's hair out of his face. He didn't want to move away, and he wasn't; besides, Harry could see Nick laughing at him much better from this vantage point.

"I have magic," Harry pointed out. He curled his fingers against the small of Nick's back, and bright sparks of electricity ran up Nick's spine. "You should respect me."

"You think a little bit of magic is going to throw me off?" Nick said. "I've been dealing with you for way too long. You are a _brat_ and you are out of control and someone needs to rein you in."

Harry blinked up at Nick, wide-eyed. "Oh," he said, "okay," and this time when he leaned up, Nick met him halfway.

It was a little clumsy at first, because Nick was still giggling and Harry was clearly grumpy about that. The sweet, warm slide of Harry's mouth was just like Nick had hoped and wanted, though, and when Harry pulled Nick down closer to him, Nick gave up any sort of gentlemanly behaviour and yanked Harry in close.

"Nick," Harry said, breathless, "Nick," and Nick bit Harry's bottom lip hard. Harry mewled, arching up against Nick harder, grinding not particularly subtly against Nick's thigh.

"Right," Nick said. "Right, god. Come on, then."

"What?"

" _You_ c'mere," Nick said, and steered Harry around, wrapping himself around Harry's back. Harry whined, letting his head fall back against Nick's shoulder and rubbing himself back against Nick's cock. Nick groaned, wrapped one arm over Harry's chest, the other hand cupped over Harry's hip, digging his nails in. 

"Nick," Harry said, and craned his head around. "Kiss me again, come on—"

"Bedroom," Nick said, determined. "I'm an old man."

" _Nick_ ," Harry said, and Nick felt the magic reaching out for him, wrapping him in something hot and prickly, but Nick was determined. He let his hand slide down, squeezed Harry's cock just a little too tight in warning.

"Bed," he said, and bit at the nape of Harry's neck. Harry bowed his head, meekly led the way.

\---

Nick couldn't remember how long exactly it had been a definite and intense goal in his life to have Harry Styles stretched under him, long-limbed and naked and needy, stubby little nails digging into Nick's back and knees pressing urgently against Nick's hips. It had been a long time, was the point, and he was too smug, too pleased with himself to even properly decide what he wanted to do first.

He bit Harry's neck again, because that seemed to be something that Harry liked a lot, judging by the way Harry moaned and tilted his head to give Nick better access, and rubbed up against him. Harry had barely been dressed all day, so his lack of clothes wasn't particularly impressive, but Nick was slightly astounded by how quickly Harry had gotten _Nick_ out of all his clothes. 

It was a bit of a blur, really, and Nick wanted to take his time now. He pinned Harry's wrist down against the bed, felt that strange, wiry strength in Harry again, the way his body tensed and his eyes darkened. He stared up at Nick, and Nick knew that Harry could throw Nick off, or roll him over, or anything.

Nick grinned down at Harry, baring his teeth, and Harry relaxed, going all loose and easy beneath Nick.

"You're so ridiculous," Nick told Harry.

"I'm – I'm—" Harry made a weak movement, and the shadows on the walls leapt up at once, flaring dark and dangerous. Nick laughed, and reached with one hand to pinch at Harry's thigh, force his legs spread wide enough to hurt a little. Harry whimpered, and the shadows lapsed into their normal quiet, magic dying away.

Nick kissed Harry's nose, and his cheeks, and his mouth. Harry said, "Please. Please, Nick."

"That's more like it—"

"Hellooo," Niall said. Nick froze. "Sorry to disturb you, we were just wondering what's going on."

"Are you kidding?" Nick said, and fished for a sheet to pull up over himself. Not _everyone_ was a shameless exhibitionist. 

Not that Harry seemed to even notice the intrusion; he was still staring up at Nick, an adorable little crease on his forehead where he frowned, clearly not sure why Nick had rolled off him. He grabbed at Nick, trying to drag him down for a kiss, and Nick almost went, fuck it all, but—

"Harry," Liam said, unbearably earnest. "Would you like a drink of water or something? I could fetch you a drink of water."

"Nick," Harry said, trying to drag him back in.

"Make them go _away_ ," Nick moaned, and Harry propped himself up on his elbows. He looked dazed, hair already a mess, mouth sweetly pink and swollen. 

"Harry?" Liam said, hopeful.

Nick looked over at the doorway. Liam and Niall had both actually come in; Zayn was hovering just behind them, and Louis was leaning against a wall and scowling. Nick didn't want to know how long he'd been there.

"Seriously, get out of here," Nick told them.

"Oh." Liam looked confused. "Did you want a drink, Nick?"

"Harry!" Nick said.

"Oh, god," Harry said. "Go away. All of you, you have to—"

"Harry," Zayn said, face falling. "Don't make us. We'll be quiet."

"We could wait out there in the kitchen," Niall offered.

"No," Louis said. "We'll wait here. We'll be quiet, though."

"They'll be quiet," Harry told Nick.

" _Harold_."

"Oh, fine," Harry said, and got out of bed. As Nick watched, he rummaged around on the floor, apparently entirely unselfconscious of his fucking prominent erection, until he landed on his t-shirt. Instead of putting it on, he waved it over his head like a flag, and set off down the hallway. If Nick sat up, he could just see Harry open the front door and throw the t-shirt out into the hall.

"Oh, come on," Nick said.

Four boybanders leapt after the shirt with ungainly devotion, and Harry shut the door and locked it.

The knocking started before Harry was even back in the bedroom, but it was mostly drowned out when Harry shut the bedroom door and headed back for the bed with a decidedly predatory look.

"Happy now?" Harry said.

"No," Nick said, "you're a monster," and rolled Harry back underneath him.

\---

At one point, Harry got the giggles. It was during the second round, with Harry riding Nick, chest flushed pink, hair falling all over his face, one hand stroking himself off and making breathless sounds that were kind of killing Nick.

He looked down, though, and started laughing, and Nick blinked, stared up at him, fingers digging into Harry's hips.

"What?" Nick said. "What is it?"

"Nuh – nothing," Harry managed, voice hitching up. "God, fuck. S'just – I'm happy, I'm just happy, Nick, god—"

"You're ridiculous," Nick repeated, and switched them around, because Harry was getting all slow and stuttery, the roll of his hips unsure. Harry wrapped his legs up around Nick's waist and Nick fucked him hard enough that Harry's cries would probably turn the neighbours against them permanently, Harry's nails digging into Nick's upper arm. 

Harry was still smiling, too, goofy and overwhelmed, and Nick thought that he was pretty happy, too.

\---

"Nick," Harry whispered. "Nick. It's not working."

"Mm," Nick said, rubbing his face against Harry's neck. He felt warm and languid, and very solid. "Well, give me a couple of hours."

" _No_ ," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I mean the – the magic. It's gone."

"Is it?"

"Mm."

"Well, guess you're going to have to stop being such an unbearable control freak, then," Nick said. "And just lie around and do what I tell you." He pinched at Harry's hip. Harry squawked, rolling in closer to him and mouthing sort of grumpily at Nick's throat. As revenge went, it wasn't very effective.

"Pity," Harry said. "I kind of liked it."

"You're dangerous enough on your own," Nick said. He felt terribly, embarrassingly content, like the whole world had quietly reshaped itself to what Nick liked best. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry shivered and rolled in closer to him.

"Mm," Harry said. "And I guess it'll make the lads leave us alone."

"Yes," Nick said darkly. "That would be nice."

Harry grinned up at Nick. "You just want me to yourself."

"Nothing wrong with that," Nick said, and Harry laughed, and kissed him again. Nick still felt that pull, the need to get in close to Harry, something dark and hot dragging him in, but he didn't mind so much.

Harry had just started to give up on kissing in favour of yawning when the doorbell went, so Nick didn't feel too bad about getting up to abandon him, pulling on boxers and a t-shirt.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. Nick smiled at him.

"It's probably notes for tomorrow at work," he said. "They send 'em over sometimes around now."

"Ugh," Harry said. "Come back quick."

"Yes, yes," Nick said, and stretched. Maybe a few hours had been overestimating it. He looked back at Harry, half-asleep and rumpled in Nick's bed, and thought that a goodnight fuck would be pretty lovely.

Then he went and opened the door.

"Oh, god," he said. "I thought Harry said it was fixed."

"Hi," Zayn said, wide-eyed, then looked away and blushed. Nick stared at him, and all four boys stared back. There was no hurry to get in the door, this time, and they all looked kind of curious and lovestruck.

Except for Louis, who looked even more furious than he had a few hours ago.

"All right?" Nick said cautiously. 

"I like your hair, Nick," Niall said, and then squeaked and buried his face against Liam's shoulder, apparently overcome with his own audacity.

"Can we come in?" Liam said. "Hi, Nick. I – did you want that drink of water now?"

"What do you lot want?" 

"Not much," Zayn said. "Can we just – hang about? We just – we missed you."

"Me," Nick said.

"Let us in, Grimshaw," Louis said tersely, and then shivered and went a little pink. "Sorry. Nick. I – _Nick_."

Liam gave Louis a reproving look, and Nick stared, unsure exactly what to think or do.

Someone wrapped a possessive arm around Nick's waist, and Nick turned in time to see the glare Harry leveled on the rest of his band.

"I thought you guys went home," he said.

"We were going to," Niall said. "And then we just. We. I just wanted to – Nick, do you want to maybe watch the telly together or something?"

"Harry," Nick said.

"You _stole my magic_ ," Harry said, and wound himself tighter around Nick.

"I didn't mean to!"

"He definitely didn't mean to," Liam said soothingly, stroking Nick's arm. Nick really wished he wouldn't. "He wouldn't do something like that on purpose, he's too nice. Come on, let's come in, then. Nick's not wearing enough clothes, he'll catch cold with this draft."

"It's fine, though," Zayn said, unable to meet Nick's eyes. "The – the not many clothes thing. You're lovely."

"Hey," Harry snapped, fisting his hand in Nick's t-shirt. "Mine!"

"Well, yes," Liam said, gently easing his way past Nick and holding the door open for Niall and Zayn to come through, too. Louis was already in, was sitting in a corner with his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees, staring at Nick with a sort of passionate, broody longing that, frankly, terrified Nick. "But you can share, can't you?"


End file.
